Bus Stop Bitches

Confession: When you have kids, shit happens- daily.

This is a totally different post than the one I had been working on for today. The one I was working on was a nice, happy post about how I was planning to finally start my little side project- my review and advice blog. A great follow up to the blog naming contest and cake giveaway that I've been running all week, right? I mean it almost made you forget what blog you were reading, didn't it? Perhaps you were thinking for just a minute, that I had evolved. That maybe my blog was becoming something perky and sweet. So, are you surprised at my return to the darker side of motherhood? Of course you're not. That's what keeps you coming back for more. More drama, more fights, more parenting at it's finest. And why should today be any different?

It was all rolling along just fine until the bus stop. I had planned to return to the house after getting #1 off to school and finally work on my other blog. Despite the fact that I have felt like I got hit by a truck for the last several days, I was determined to blog today. I should have known better. See, when my super sensitive #1 got off the bus yesterday she was crying, again. Seems as though the group of girls that she rides with all sat together and she had to sit alone, again. And when she voiced her unhappiness with the situation, one of the little girls called her a name again. Once again when she came in crying and told me what happened my first instinct was to go "roll on those little bitches". Then of course I remembered that I am 37 and they are 7. And that I am the ahem, mom. Police charges? No thanks. So I let the rational side of me take over. Instead we talked.

We talked about right from wrong. We talked about how sometimes friends don't mean to exclude one another and how it will all blow over in no time. We talked about how people call each other silly names sometimes, and while it is not nice and not acceptable to do, people get carried away and don't often mean what they say. And eventually, we got on with our evening and she went to bed. But she stirred. She fretted. She worried. Why? Well, because that is what she does. It makes me sad. It breaks my heart. Whenever someone causes her any pain, I get sick. And I know that this is all a part of life and of growing up. It's just that, well, the kind of kid she is, the kind of person she is, sets her up for a hard time in life. I fear the sadness and pain that will befall her if she isn't able to develop a thicker skin. But, at the same time, her soft and innocent nature is one of her greatest quality's. I spent the evening reflecting. Okay not really. I spent it watching bad t.v. but I probably should have spent it reflecting.

Still, I was able to ask myself in a quiet moment alone, "WHY DO LITTLE GIRLS HAVE TO BE SUCH BITCHES"? No really. I don't know if we are born with the skill, the ingrained ability to be catty and petty and cruel, or if we learn it along the way. All I know is that by 6 years old, most of these little girls have it mastered. My only hope is that their parents are able to nip it in the bud before it gets too out of control. Okay that is not my only hope. My other hope is that somewhere along the way, these girls get a taste of their own medicine. If only this had happened to #2 and not my super sensitive sweet #1. If it were #2, worst case scenario is I have to write a check for the other kids doctor bills after #2 punched them in the nose for calling her a name. Not that I am condoning violence but, oh the hell with it, yeah my kid probably would've punched the other kid in the nose for calling her a name. Deal with it.

This morning at the bus stop, just as I had told her they would, the little girls involved pretended like nothing had ever happened. I wasn't sure whether to be pissed off or relieved. As I walked away, I saw my daughter talking to her friends and laughing, so I opted for relief. Just for today, they were okay. Then I realized that in a short time she would come off of the bus in tears again at something one of them had done or said. I walked back towards my house thinking "bitches. Don't they know I have a blog?"